The Lesser Prairie Chicken Festival

April 17, 2010

Milnesand, New Mexico

5:00-8:00 AM

The sky in that particular patch of New Mexico was even bigger than in Lubbock because the land was so flat. It was a massive blue bowl full of clouds. Standing in fields of prairie grass, all faded yellow waves, we were surrounded by the clouds, by towering blue mountains in the sky, a world of blue hues.

The tents looked silly in the daytime, especially because we were camping in someone's backyard. But at night they were beautiful and mysterious--they were glowing blue, green, and grey mounds in the dark, flashlight islands that quivered like flames in the wind.

The people of Milnesand were very kind and friendly and amazing cooks. I knew we would be fed while we were there, but I didn't expect there to be vegetarian accommodations, nor did I expect to love the meals. 

I sat with Laura and a group of smiling strangers. It was amazing to get a glimpse into this world. The people we met were serious birders who shared really cool stories with us.

Notes on the Prairie Chickens:

>pending, left them at home<

Retiring at last to our flashlight island, I made a few phone calls, smiled when I heard screams from another tent (later to learn they were telling ghost stories), wrote a letter, and went to sleep. 

4:30 AM comes fast.

Up, up, up! Hurry, hurry, hurry! The Prairie Chickens won't wait!

I'm slow-natured. I do everything slowly. So I was scrambling to get ready and barely made it to my van in time. But, thanks to Laura, I did.

We rode down dirt roads, past gate after gate in the morning dark. Finally the van lazed to a stop near a lek. 

Waiting.

First you hear them. The Prairie Chickens' cooing in the dark, a sound like laughter. I couldn't help but think it sounded sinister, those gently rising, sneaking cackles.

Gradually, the sun rises and you notice spots of brown moving. I felt silly when I finally saw them--they were everywhere. Perhaps ten males and two females, all scurrying around bobbing heads, puffing orange air-sacks, twirling pinnae feathers, stomping feet, jumping, flapping wings, fanning their tail feathers.

All the males gather and dance to impress the females. The females will choose only one male, and then the two go off to make a nest. 

They're such silly birds, but they're so serious. Before the trip, I didn't understand why this was so special, but now I do.

All the males hopping around, the females walking about looking bored. I loved it! It was amazing to me that there was no violence; the males never attacked each other and never attacked the females as some animals do. Instead, the males sometimes had stand-offs. They would face each other and make that laughing sound, bob their heads, and sometimes jump over each other. Never touching, one of them always backed away.

I didn't get any good sketches. I tried, but somehow the graphite seemed pathetic to me. Was I really trying to sketch this? I didn't want to spend my time looking at paper and my silly pencil marks. Instead, I just watched them. 

When we returned to a big, delicious breakfast, everyone was talking about the Prairie Chickens. It was a good year; everyone saw some for a substantial amount of time. Some people were moved to tears.

Next up, the service project!

I was hoping for some happy manual labor, but not this time. This time we were marking fences, which was still fun and rewarding.

Many Prairie Chickens die from hitting barbed wire fences; they get tunnel vision as they race away from a predator and don't see the fence, flying straight into it. The predators are often injured or killed, as well; they have the same tunnel vision problem where their focus is completely set on their prey and nothing else.

And so we set forth down the road with buckets of white plastic markers, tagging fences to make them more visible to the Chickens and predators (because the markings help them, too).

Laura and I had great conversations as we went. We worked calmly, talking and enjoying the sky and the gentlest kiss of rain.

"Tracey... I think I see a snake," she said after a while.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think we should move away."

Calmly, we walked around the spot she indicated and moved past it from higher ground. We came back down close to the fence and I cautiously approached the place where we left off. Just a few feet away, I saw it--a rattlesnake curled up in the grass. Our friend was pretty small and seemed to be having a nice nap.

I love snakes. Laura and I were really excited about this great opportunity to see our first rattle snake. We watched him/her for a few moments and then moved on quietly.

When lunch time swung around, we had marked 4 miles of fence. All for you, Prairie Chickens! <3

We returned to another delicious meal, and another exciting sight. A golden eagle. I don't mean in the sky. I mean 3 feet away.

A man there had a captive golden eagle perched in the back of his van. He told us he caught him because he'd been hunting a farmer's cattle. Golden eagles are a protected species, so the farmer was prohibited from killing it. The problem was solved by catching him.

The man used thick elk leather gloves to handle him. His talons are lethal; there were evident scratch marks on the gloves.

I was in awe. The eagle was huge. He was breathtakingly beautiful with his watchful eyes. I felt grateful to see something so amazing, but also sad for him that he was no longer free. 

The last thing we saw before we left was a sheep dog presentation. We watched a group of sheep wander under the watch of a beautiful Border Collie. The man who handled the group explained some of the basic commands to us.

Then it was off to pack up the tents.

I almost didn't go on the trip because I was sick. In the end, I was very glad I went--it was absolutely worth it.

Bats, Rats, and Birds, Oh My!!

April 14, 2010

Museum of Texas Tech University-
Natural Science Research Laboratory

This was an interesting trip for me.

I'm a lover of life. I'm a tree-hugging vegetarian who lies in the grass watching sunsets and playing with ants. I was mysteriously absent in high school the day we dissected a fish. I always say a prayer or at least acknowledge in some way any animal or bird I see reposed on the side of the road.

Imagine the turnings of my inner world as our guide, Dr. Nancy Mcintyre lead us through a museum of preserved birds and animals.

I'm a lover of life and all that, but I'm not squeamish; I went past the two doors guarding the flesh-eating beetles to meet them up close. I held a dead toucan. I examined a tiny jar of hummingbird bones.

Let me take you through my notes:

Museums started with the peculiar human propensity to collect things. The mission of a museum is to tell the story of the world, illustrate it with specimens. Museums are a tremendous method of education. It's one thing to look at a bird in a book, and quite another to hold it in your hand.

The specimens they have in the greatest number are bats and rats. The first room we followed Dr. M into was full of them floating in jars of amber liquid. We asked if the liquid was formaldehyde, and learned that formaldehyde is a fixative, not a preservative. The chemical found in it, formalin, is used to temporarily preserve a specimen. Alcohol is used for the long-term.

Dr. M picked up a skull sitting on a table. "Take a guess," she said.

"Prairie dog?" 

"Beaver."

There are beavers in Lubbock. I wouldn't have guessed. 

All the jars of floating bats and rats and things were called fluid preparations. These specimens include the organs, skin, and everything.

Dead Critter to Clean Skeleton:

-Remove soft tissues

-Allow the specimen to dry out

-Expose it to flesh-eating beetles 

The flesh-eating beetles are kept on the bottom floor behind two doors. The room is temperature controlled. Upon asking, we learned that the beetles only feed on dead flesh.

Most of the specimens are kept upstairs to protect the collection from flood, bugs, and other damages.

One side of the museum is dedicated to mammals and holds approximately 80 to 90,000. The side for birds holds about 6,000.

I was surprised to learn that more than one specimen of a species was collected. Why collect more than one?
Though a bird is the same species, individual specimens may look very different.

"Imagine you were an alien coming to collect a specimen of a human. If you only collect one person, you've collected only one sex, race, and age class," Dr. M explained.

A human museum... Que imagination!

They can also boil a skeleton to clean the bones, but this takes longer and smells more strongly.

Nancy took us to the bird side, walked us through a maze of great white cabinets full of birds. The specimens were organized by taxonomic order, not alphabetical. The museum has a representative (specimen of some sort, stuffed, preserved, or a skeleton) for every bird except a Tinamou.

I gathered some interesting facts as we wandered among specimens:

-A hummingbird nest is the size of quarter, so when you see one, you'll have no doubts about what it is. 

-The feathers of juvenile golden eagles were once used for Native American headdresses. 

-Toucans are related to woodpeckers. When I held one, I found that its beak was surprisingly light. 

-The Quetzal is widely regarded as the most beautiful bird in the world. Its feathers were used for headdresses for royalty.

-Owls' eyes are larger than their brains.

-Egret plumes were used for hats so much that they nearly went extinct.

-Bats and rodents are the most diverse groups of mammals.

We were also allowed to wander among the mounted mammal specimens. We saw eagles, tigers, lions, deer, prairie dogs, zebras... all sorts of mammals watching us with glass eyes.

Dr. M called us with a whistle and took us to another room to see the long-awaited prairie chickens. We saw a specimen of a Greater Prairie Chicken (first preserved in 1878) and a Lesser Prairie Chicken, the latter we would soon be seeing alive. The Lessers have a slight webbing on their feet and are scratchers. The barring of the specimen we saw was faded.

"Birds lose something in death," Dr. M said. Their colors aren't quite as vibrant.

It was an interesting experience for me. I felt very disconcerted walking through rows and rows of dead animals. Yet death is a part of life. None of the animals or birds in the museum were killed for the purpose of being preserved--they all died in some other way and were donated.

Yet I left the museum feeling strange... feeling humble. Reminded of my own mortality. I left pondering a human museum, rows and rows of humans...

I'm very glad I went, and very glad I saw the flesh-eating beetles and held the toucan. 

Nurturing Tree Shadows

March 31, 2010 and April 7, 2010

Lubbock Lake Landmark

To my great delight, we spent these two class periods planting trees. 

When Dr. T described the project to us, I imagined tiny plants and trowels. But these were Texas sized baby trees--between 3 and 5 feet tall (only my estimation). No trowels. Shovels and pick axes. 

We were given a map marked with stars where trees would be planted. 22 Soapberry and Hackberry trees, plants well-suited to Lubbock weather. In two class periods, we planted all of them.

I love manual labor. I'm a thinker by nature, so physical work is highly therapeutic for me; my mind can relax and blend with the motion of my body. I feel whole and happy. After a while of watching to make sure I understood the process, I took up a shovel and relished the feeling of lifting the earth. I am small and dehydrate easily, but I still worked to some of my heart's content. I was so happy sweating in the afternoon sun.

The method: tree locations were marked by yellow flags labeled "soap" or "hack." The places were chosen based on the location of archeological sites (which cannot be disturbed), the location along the walking trail, and the location of other trees; some trees would later provide shade and aesthetic value along the trail, and others were planted so that they were well spread out.

After a flag was spotted, a group dug a hole large enough to accommodate the roots of the tree. The tree was then placed inside and blanketed with the same dirt that previously occupied the hole (this is actually better for the tree than using a different soil from another source). We then made a raised ring of dirt on the outside so that the tree would collect as much water as possible when it rained. All plants need to be watered faithfully when they are first planted, so the LLL team soaked each tree immediately after. We learned they would continue to water the trees this way for the first year.

I loved this project. I could have happily kept doing that for the whole semester. I love digging, and I love nurturing new life. Riding on the LLL trailer from tree to tree, bouncing with the bumps of the road, I dreamed about creating a garden someday. I'm lucky to have a teacher who knows a great deal about that; someday I'll be looking through her blog and really get to dig to my heart's content.

And of course, in 20 years, I'll be coming back to LLL to say hello to the trees I helped plant and admire their beautiful shadows.

The Truth About the Texas Mood Disorder

March 24, 2010

Lubbock Lake Landmark

Cloudy 49*F Wind speed: 20mph

Have you seen that facebook group? "I'm from Texas, the bipolar state." Or have you heard the saying? "If you don't like Texas weather, give it an hour--it'll change."

To most residents of Lubbock, the weather seems completely random. Cold, hot, blustering wind, massive clouds, spotless sky, rain... all in one day?

Dr. T. let us in on the secret: Turns out weather is not random at all.

Weather in a Nut Shell  

Seasons: As the earth revolves around the sun, one hemisphere is closer to the sun than the other. That hemisphere experiences summer, and the other winter. Spring and fall are the transitions.

Wind: this rush of air occurs when bodies of cool and warm air create pressure, forcing each other up and down.

Cold Front: occurs in a place where cool air forms over a cool place and condenses. Warm air moves in to fill the space and becomes heavy. This creates a high pressure system. The condensed air sinks and wants to push the air out; air under high pressure rushes to low pressure.At the front of the Cold Front, barometric pressure steadily decreases.Cumulus clouds form in front, cumulonimbus clouds in the middle, and cirrus clouds at the end. The wind comes in one direction at the beginning of the Cold Front, and in the opposite at the end of the cold front.

At the front, you will see: cold, lighter winds from the North or West

In the middle: Temperatures steadily drop, wind gusts and shifts directions, rain falls

At the end: warm, light winds from the Southeast or Southwest

The trick of it is time; cold fronts move fast. As an amateur meteorologist watching the sky, the difficult thing is to determine where you are in the front at that particular time. In a few hours, you may be somewhere else.

Weather Prediction

March 23: Warm, sunny. Wind from South/Southeast

March 24: Cool. Gusting, shifting winds from from North/Northwest. Heavy cumulonimbus rain clouds.

PREDICTION: March 25: Calmer and warmer. 

Do you ever get sinus headaches after a change in weather? Did your grandmother's arthritis worsen right before storms? There's an interesting connection between pain and drops in barometric pressure in some people. I asked Dr. T about it, and she said a scientific explanation is still pending. When I was younger, my legs hurt terribly every time it rained. Now that I'm older, they still do sometimes, but not as intensely. Curious, yes?

The Weather Story

Once upon a time, a great, colorful ball danced all round the sun. It spun in perfect pirouettes, slowly dancing around and around, patient as a star. The time when the ballerina faced the glowing light was called Day, and the time when her back was turned was called Night.

Day was a beautiful creature--all golden, her cloud hair long and full, all alight and alive with her sunset smile.

Night was equally beautiful--all deep velvet dark, his hair adorned with stars, all sleepy sighs with his blinking dusk eyes.

The two were ill-fated lovers. Day spent all her light rushing toward Night, and Night did the same with his darkness. They ran, they reached, and they strained, but to no avail; always at dawn their fingers touched, just out of reach, and again at dusk they parted with only a glance.

On the land, the wind rose and fell with the strides of their legs. Rain fell as they cried desperate tears. When Night passed by the sun, he left her fields of flowers, a gift he called Spring. As Day ran past, she smiled upon them even as she cried, rays of sun and times of rain blending until the glow of her smile prevailed. This was called Summer. As Day began to gather the flowers up in her arms, they started to lose their color to her Autumn bouquet. When Night ran by, he covered the rest in snow and ice to make a mirror for his love to see his flowers still, this gift, Winter. 

Round and round went the ballerina, the lovers always racing toward each other. It is said that when they kiss, the sun will wink out.